


don't you like you, cause i like you

by CoffeeAndArrows, moonlitprincess



Series: i'll give you everything i am (all my broken heartbeats) [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: (although that's only hinted at), Alternate Universe - High School, Coming Out, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 03:24:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14729030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeAndArrows/pseuds/CoffeeAndArrows, https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlitprincess/pseuds/moonlitprincess
Summary: But before Ava can turn to run away from the door, it swings open to reveal Sara Lance standing in front of her. Her hair is bundled into a messy bun on the top of her head, two stray strands framing the sides of her face. She’s wearing a SCHS soccer hoodie  and skin tight shorts that only come halfway down her thighs, revealing muscly, freckled legs that Ava has to work very hard not to look at. Her feet are adorned with grey fluffy socks which Ava is avoiding calling adorable in her head in fear of starting to associate Sara with any word remotely cutesy and affectionate.Sara’s expression is genuinely surprised for several moments, eyes wide and startling blue. Her lack of makeup and the dim, golden light of the corridor highlight the freckles that are littered across her face.Her eyelashes are really blonde, thinks Ava. How did I never know her eyelashes were blonde?ORa high school au in which sara and ava have been each other's arch nemesis since freshman year, but when ava's parents react badly to her coming out, it's sara's doorstep that ava shows up on when she doesn't know what to do





	don't you like you, cause i like you

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY SO this fic is a part of a longer fic that me (moonlitprincess) and rachel (CoffeeAndArrows) are planning to write of a high school au that covers avalance (+ the rest of the dcu gang's) senior year so CONTEXT:
> 
> this particular scene happens in ava and sara's junior year. they've been arch nemeses since literally the first day of freshman year, but the kind of enemy-ness that isn't like, hating each other, but just bickering and banter and their two friend groups prank each other all the time and sara and ava are always debating in class but in reality they actually respect each other a lot (and may have a crush on each other but neither of them realise it even tho the rest of the school has literally been betting on it since they were all like 15). they're both quite popular but are in different circles of school (at this point in the timeline, sara is in the soccer team and will probably be captain next year, while ava is on track to being valedictorian). sara's also been out as bi since freshman year which ava has always admired about her (Aw bless their souls right?) 
> 
> rach and i wrote this because we've been headcanoning this fic for like 3 day and we were talking about little moments over the years where their relationship might have slowly changed from arch nemesis-ness to something resembling friendship and then OBVIOUSLY the eventual relationship that will ensue and the idea of sara supporting ava after she comes out even though they're not Proper Friends just ruined us so here we are 
> 
> ANYWAY that's pretty much any context you need to for this scene in particular WE HOPE YOU ENJOY pls let us know if you would be interested in reading this overall high school au 
> 
> (title from try by colbie caillat)

****Ava is out the door before she even realises she’s moved, feet falling sharply onto the hard concrete below her as she barrels out of the house and ignores the immediate outbursts and shouts from her family. Her heart is hammering in her chest, her stomach twisted in knots and she isn’t sure if she wants to throw up or punch something. She can’t even _think_ , there’s just static noise in her mind as anger floods her system, defiance shooting up her spine as her eyes burn with tears. She strides across the perfectly mown front lawn, angrily gathering her hair into a messy ponytail. She can hear her mother yelling ‘Ava, come back here at once!’, almost groans at the sound of the car door opening because even if she sprints, she can’t outrun the Volvo. But the engine never revs and Ava assumes her dad intervened. She doesn’t bother to look behind her and check though, and instead, just starts running.

 

The October air is chilly, nearing iciness and Ava’s only wearing thin gym tights and one of Spencer’s old SCHS basketball tees that is old and thinning, but somehow, Ava can’t help but welcome the sharp cold. She likes the way her ears are going numb, the way her hair is whipping at the back of her neck with every step, how the chill has her tears sticking to her face, the saltiness making her skin sting just the right amount as that familiar burn begins in her calves when she picks up the pace down the street. It all distracts from the one thing Ava really _doesn’t_ want to think about. She powers through the puddles of light the street lamps shine onto the sidewalk below, slips onto the road to overtake people going for a Thursday evening stroll. She can feel the stiffness in her muscles, the tightness in her lungs - she hasn’t been for a run in a long time - but she ignores it, pushing through out of pure, unrelenting need to keep going.

 

Ava chose academics over sport a long time ago, but she never quite managed to give up running. She’d always been more inclined to be outside playing catch with her dad and Spencer rather than doing her nails and makeup with Layla and Ali, had been the one daughter Robert Sharpe claimed to have successfully ‘converted’ to his side of the cocurriculars. Ava had always been tall, so had played basketball since she was 8, been captain of her middle school first division team, had even been told that if she kept up this pace, she could play college basketball on full scholarship. But high school came around and Ava found herself drifting more towards her studies than sports. Her dad had, however, been fully supportive of the decision she’d made to focus solely on school - Ava lets out a breathless huff as she thinks about it. How had her sweet, open minded, endlessly supportive dad ended up with someone as tight lipped, conservative and disapproving as her mother?

 

While her dad trained her on the weekends, took her to games and tournaments, helped her pick out running shoes and basketball boots and cheered from the stadiums stands, her mother had tutted disapprovingly and pursed her lips when she saw Ava’s wardrobe evolve into shorts and baggy sweatshirts. She doted on Layla and Ali, who fit her feminine ideals of daughters in every way, shape and form. Ava had always tried to argue that Layla was literally the only one who didn’t play sport out of the three siblings, that even Ali was on the top lacrosse team, but Barbara Sharpe had never seemed to see it that way. She implored Ava to at least _learn_ how to wear makeup, to buy a dress or two, to think about whether she wanted to ask a guy to the middle school dance, despite Ava insisting she didn’t want to every time it was brought up. Ali and Spencer had always tried to defend her, to tell their mom to lay off a bit, let Ava do her thing whatever that might be. Layla had scorned, somewhat embarrassed by her sporty, non-conventional little sister (although Ava always suspected she was just jealous that Ava was more popular with the guys than she was, which, to be fair, was because she’d earned their respect by kicking all of their asses at basketball when she was 13).

 

So when Ava had stopped playing sport and buckled down on the academics at high school, it had taken everything she had to stop her mother from throwing a goddamn _party_ in celebration. In hindsight, continuing her routine of a morning run had almost become a way to still spite how much her mother hated her sportiness. (It had worked - between the ages of 13 and 15, Barbara almost constantly made comments about how Ava was already thin and a little behind on puberty, she didn’t want to end up too muscly because guys would be put off by a girl with bigger biceps than them. Robert had always reprimanded her, Ava had rolled her eyes and banged her head against the table, while Ali, worried for her older sister’s mental state at their mother’s comments, had always said something along the lines of “Mom, _stop_ , Ava’s got a great figure, do you know how many girls would kill to have a body like hers? Stop body shaming okay?”)

 

Maybe Barbara had hated it so much because she thought that it would lead to this. To Ava being …

 

Ava slows suddenly to a gentle jog as she nears a busier neighbourhood shopping area. She can’t even _think_ the word properly. She’d used _gay_ when she’d told her family on Sunday, done the same in her facebook post announcing it to the world, because for whatever, ridiculous reason, the L-word feels too overwhelming somehow. Which makes no sense to her because it’s not like it’s a sudden revelation - the label had been a part of her identity for the better part of the last two years, it’s only now that she’s started telling people that she can’t bring herself to say it. Her jog becomes a walk, and Ava weaves through the couples getting takeout, the kids skateboarding up and down the sidewalk, the college students wandering home from late afternoon shifts at coffeeshops.

 

So yeah. Maybe Barbara had been worried her daughter would turn out _like that_ , and hey, here they were, she had. Ava laughs bitterly to herself. She was a big old flannel wearing, ex-basketball playing, hopefully law and history majoring … _lesbian_.

 

She stops walking. Inexplicably, her eyes fill with tears again and she scoffs at herself immediately, hurriedly brushing her palms over her face, jumping a little at how cold her fingers are. Now that she isn’t running anymore, the chill seems to seep through the armour of her tights and Spencer’s old t-shirt and Ava shivers. It’s the time of the year when days are still mostly warm, the sun still shines high in the sky, but the evenings turn chilly and the nights are bitter cold. For a moment, Ava contemplates turning back and walking home but when she pulls her phone from the inside pocket at the back of her tights, her decision is made almost as soon as her eyes fall onto the only text message she’d received.

 

 

**_7:58pm  
Layla:_ **

_Oh my god, could you be more selfish? Mom’s a total wreck, she’s trying her best to deal with all of this and you just have to keep making it difficult for her don’t you? Just do us all a favour and stop being dramatic, come home._

 

 

‘You gotta be kidding me,’ breathes Ava incredulously, shaking her head. _Jesus._ Anger starts to buzz through her whole body again. She continues walking in the opposite direction to her house, allowing her legs to aimlessly take her in whatever direction they see fit as she attempts to zone out by watching the small crowds of people filtering through the streets alongside her. People watching is the easiest distraction on hand, and Ava refuses to start thinking about the fact that half her family genuinely probably wishes she had just _not_ come out. Her phone buzzes and she braves another glance at it, letting out a relieved exhale when it isn’t Layla or her mother.

 

 

 ****_**8:06pm**_  
_**Ali:**  
lmao so dad is having this big internal debate over whether to text u or to give u space because he wants to respect ur ‘mature capability to work things out on ur own’ or to come after u in the car so imma just put an end to his pacing before he wears a hole in the living room floor _

 

_u ok?_

 

_i mean obviously not but u know_

 

_do u want one of us to come get u?_

 

_ur not too far are u? it’s dark out and pretty cold_

 

 

Ava smiles a little to herself, shivering again as a gust of particularly icy wind billows down the street.

 

 

 ******_8:07pm:_**  
**You:**  
_I’m good I swear. I just couldn’t be in there_

 

_You don’t have to come get me i’m still in the neighbourhood and my phone’s on 74% so it’s ok_

 

 

Ava glances up, suddenly recognising one of the houses on the corner of the next road over. It’s Sara’s. Ava blinks in surprise - she hadn’t realised she’d run so far to the other end of this neighbourhood (but technically, it _is_ the same overarching neighbourhood so she hadn’t lied to Ali). She’d been to Sara’s house before - a couple of times to work on group projects, once or twice just to drop something off over the years, and she’d walked past it almost every day for the first two and a half years of high school before she, Layla and Ali had gotten a car to share between the three of them and had started driving to school instead. It’s clear that this is the more modest end of the neighbourhood. While Ava’s house has two storeys plus attic and basement spaces, a two door garage, a front and back yard and three, obnoxiously expensive cars parked out front, Sara’s house is much more low key. Two storeys, an old oak which towered up to the second storey and held a wooden tree house level with what Ava assumes is Laurel’s window (she recognises the tree house view from being in several of Laurel’s instagrams), and a garage that apparently seems to be used mostly for storage purposes because Quentin’s police cruiser is parked out front. Ava lets out a shaky breath. Sara’s house looks warm and gentle and comforting and there’s a knot in Ava’s chest that’s almost physically pulling her towards it. She’s freezing and her legs are aching now and she doesn’t want to be outside anymore, but she definitely doesn’t want to go home.

 

Without even properly thinking about it, she types out a final message to Ali -

 

**_8:08pm:  
You: _ **

_I’m going to a friend’s house will keep you updated abt whether i want a ride home or anything_

 

_love you_

 

and crosses the street to hurry over to the Lance’s. She’s on the front porch and ringing the doorbell before she can talk herself out of it, rocking on the balls of her feet from both nerves and cold, anxiously hugging herself tightly. What if Sara has friends over? What’s she supposed to say to Zari or Jax or Nate about just showing up on her nemesis’ doorstep? Despite what she’d told Ali, they aren’t exactly _friends,_ they’d literally never ‘hung out’ at each other’s houses or anything, just happened to have known (and argued with) each other for the better part of the last three and a bit years.

 

This is such a bad idea.

 

But before Ava can turn to run away from the door, it swings open to reveal Sara Lance standing in front of her. Her hair is bundled into a messy bun on the top of her head, two stray strands framing the sides of her face. She’s wearing a SCHS soccer hoodieand skin tight shorts that only come halfway down her thighs, revealing muscly, freckled legs that Ava has to work very hard not to look at. Her feet are adorned with grey fluffy socks which Ava is avoiding calling _adorable_ in her head in fear of starting to associate Sara with any word remotely cutesy and affectionate.

 

Sara’s expression is genuinely surprised for several moments, eyes wide and startling blue. Her lack of makeup and the dim, golden light of the corridor highlight the freckles that are littered across her face.

 

 _Her eyelashes are really blonde_ , thinks Ava. _How did I never know her eyelashes were blonde?_

 

‘Hi,’ says Sara eventually, sounding a little confused.

 

‘Um … hi,’ says Ava, her voice cracking a little as she speaks. It’s taking everything she has to stop her lip from quivering and to ignore the faint burning behind her eyelids. It doesn’t seem to work because Sara’s eyebrows furrow, her eyes flickering with an emotion Ava doesn’t want to name and she steps closer to Ava with a soft, concerned expression on her face.

 

‘You okay?’ she asks. Sara wouldn’t usually ask this. Sara would usually make a snide quip or a joking retort or automatically launch into an antagonistic argument with Ava about something that would have them bickering on this porch for at least 15 minutes before either of them got to why Ava was actually here. But Sara seems to already know what this is about, and maybe it’s because she’s been through it too, because of the conversation they had on Monday about how Ava had always admired Sara being _out_ throughout high school, because Sara _knows_ it’s only been 4 days since Ava revealed this part of herself to the world and there’s something incredibly raw and exhausting about doing that for the first time.

 

Ava goes to nod, goes to laugh it off and make some joke about how she’s just here to interrupt Sara’s bio study (sue her, yeah she watched Sara’s instagram story) and piss her off a little, goes to give Sara a mocking salute and hurry back down to the street and take her sweet time walking home. But instead, all that comes out is a half choked sob and suddenly, hot tears are streaming down Ava’s cheeks and her lungs feel tight and the cold turns to an icy chill deep in her bones and it feels like literally absolutely nothing whatsoever is in anyway okay.

 

Before she knows what’s happening, Sara’s arms are around her neck, pulling her into a fierce hug that has Ava crying even harder against her shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around Sara’s middle as though she’s the only lifeline tethering her to anything real in that moment. Sara’s hair smells like honey and coconut, her hands are warm as they rest on Ava’s back, her hoodie is soft and worn and Ava can’t help but snap her eyes shut and suck in a shuddering breath as the whirling in her head slows to a quiet hum.

 

They stand there for a while, and Ava’s not sure quite how much time passes with her face buried in Sara’s shoulder, Sara’s breathing quiet in her ear and her hands tracing gentle, comforting patters on Ava’s back. Ava waits until her lungs are working properly again to pull away, sniffing and flickering her eyes to anywhere that isn’t Sara as the back of her neck begins to burn with embarrassment. She just had a breakdown on Sara Lance’s front porch. Oh _god_ , Sara has so much leverage against her now. (A small voice in Ava’s head reminds her that their relationship isn’t like that, at least not anymore, that Sara would never use this kind of thing against Ava.) Sara’s just quiet, looking at Ava thoughtfully,so tender that Ava’s stomach flips a little.

 

‘What?’ she snaps eventually, unable to stop herself from falling into the familiarity of instinctive arguing around Sara. Sara doesn’t seem to take the bait though, just giving Ava a small, oddly amused smile before saying ‘You look like a raccoon.’

 

‘Excuse me?’ says Ava, wrinkling her nose.

 

Sara taps her own cheek, just underneath her eye and Ava’s hands fly up to feel her own face, groaning when she pulls away her fingers to reveal smudged, teary mascara remnants staining her cheeks.

 

‘Fuck,’ she says with another sniff, wiping her fingers on her tights.

 

‘Come on,’ says Sara, curling one hand around Ava’s left wrist. ‘I’ve got some makeup wipes upstairs.’

 

Ava doesn’t even have time to open her mouth in attempt to protest before Sara’s dragged her over the threshold and slammed the door shut behind them. There’s a rumble of noise and chatter from the living room - the only part of the house Ava’s ever really been in before - and Ava cranes her head to try and see whether it’s Sara’s friends or not.

 

‘It’s just dad’s poker buddies,’ explains Sara. ‘Once a month they have a precinct poker night.’

 

As if on cue, Quentin calls ‘Who is it Sara?’

 

‘Just a friend from school!’ Sara calls back. ‘We’re gonna go upstairs and study a bit, text me if you need me!’ She doesn’t wait for a reply, pulling Ava up the staircase.

 

‘Your dad trusts you to have people in your room alone?’ says Ava.

 

‘Why, should he be worried about your intentions?’ grins Sara, waggling her eyebrows. Ava glares at her in response, and Sara relents and shrugs. ‘I mean, yeah. When I came out to him, he asked whether he should be policing who I invite over the way he used to with Laurel and boys and I just told him that I’d rather he didn’t, and I’d let him know if there was a specific person he _should_ be policing.’ She smiles a little wryly. ‘After mom left, he asked for full disclosure with me and Laurel about anything that was going on, promising he’d always try be on our side as long as we were up front with him. It’s worked so far. Laurel always tells him if she starts seeing a new guy and I always let him know if someone I’m inviting over is a potential _something_ , ya know?’

 

Ava nods. ‘It must be nice. Knowing he trusts you.’

 

Sara casts Ava a curious look that has too much softness for Ava to bear, so she looks away, busying herself in studying the photos that line the walls of the second storey of the house. She sees a photo of Quentin, Dinah, Laurel and Sara from the soccer championships in their sophomore year. Sara is holding the enormous trophy, Laurel has her arm thrown around her sister’s shoulders and Quentin and Dinah are standing behind both the girls. Everyone is beaming, Sara is covered in dirt and sweat, and they look like the most perfect, happy family.

 

‘I was at this championship,’ says Ava. ‘You scored the winning goal.’

 

Sara grins. ‘You remember? Yeah, it was a great game.’ Her eyes dim a little. ‘First game my mom came to watch since she left.’

 

Ava looks over her shoulder. ‘At least you showed her how good you turned out.’

 

Their eyes meet, both seemingly surprised at the somewhat affectionate compliment Ava had just thrown into the air between them. Sara breaks the strange tension first, jerking her head towards a door at the end of the corridor.

 

‘This one’s mine.’

 

Ava follows her inside, lets Sara ease the door shut behind them before she crosses the room and tosses Ava a packet of makeup wipes. There’s a mirror hanging on the wall to Ava’s left so she hurries over to clean herself up, grimacing slightly at the disgusting streaks of black down her face. She gives up on trying to salvage what’s left of today’s makeup, just scrubbing her face clean and tossing the wipes in the bin before turning back around. Sara has perched herself onto the large, queen bed that occupies the middle of the room. It’s got a warm, mustard colour duvet on it and several cream, brown and grey pillows and a soft, woollen throw over the end of the bed.

 

‘I’m sorry about barging in and all,’ says Ava eventually, hating how shaky her voice sounds.

 

‘Ava, it’s fine’ says Sara gently, patting the other side of the bed. Ava hesitantly moves to sit there, trying not to sink into how warm and cosy it feels. It’s then that she remembers how cold she is, another tremble shooting up her spine and Sara’s eyes dart to her. ‘You cold?’

 

Ava thinks about lying, but she really is freezing. She nods.

 

Sara reaches over to the footboard of the bed, grabbing a faded maroon Harvard sweatshirt that looks far too big to be Sara’s and tossing it into Ava’s lap. ‘Here. It’s Laurel’s. I stole it from her ages ago and she never even noticed so I kept it. It’ll probably fit you better than any of mine - she’s closer to your height.’

 

‘Are you sure?’

 

‘Yeah, totally. Beats you getting pneumonia or something. Seriously, your arms are like icicles, put on the damn sweatshirt.’

 

Not knowing what to say, Ava playfully presses an icy hand to Sara’s cheek, smirking at the squeal Sara lets as she bats Ava’s hand away.

 

‘Jerk,’ says Sara but there’s no heat to it.

 

Ava pulls the sweatshirt over her head, sinking back into the ridiculous number of pillows Sara has stacked on her bed. Now that she's here, she has no idea what to do, and a large part of her just wants to keep running as far as she can. Whilst she's running, she doesn’t have to think about everyone’s expectations on her to get into Yale or Stanford or Princeton or Harvard, while running there’s no trying to be as put together as Spencer, as kind and down to earth as Ali, as popular and successful as Layla, no one can stop to accuse her of messing up their perfect family with her sexuality, no one can berate her for her lack of femininity, or for dropping all the things she loved to do when she started high school, no one can tell her to loosen up and stop taking things so seriously, and above all no one can judge her for who she is.

 

But it feels like she's been running for most of her life, and Ava just wants to _slow down_ , just for a _minute_.

 

And somehow, that's brought her here, sitting in Sara's room while her not-quite friend is looking at her with so much concern in her expression that it makes her eyes burn all over again. Sara tilts her head thoughtfully, her words cautious, not wanting to push the boundaries too far. 'Do you wanna talk about it?'

 

Does she? Ava scrubs a hand over her face. In all honesty, she doesn't know. She thinks the real reason she came here was because she knew Sara would  _get it_ , and it's clear she does, so Ava knows that despite their differences, if she chooses to tell her what happened Sara will understand.

 

But when she opens her mouth, she can't get the words past her throat and she's left there not quite taking in enough air as she tries her best to get her thoughts in order, because even though her and Sara aren't friends - not properly, at least - there's still a part of her that whispers  _What if you tell her and she hates you too?_

 

They've never really talked about what they are, what their relationship is. They argued in homeroom on their very first day of freshman year and have argued pretty much every day since. But there’s a difference between annoyance and hatred, a line that’s never really been crossed, though there were times they both toed it back when they were 14 and had too many hormones and changes happening around them to control half the things they said to each other. They’re not 14 anymore though, and there have been enough shared classes, enough inside jokes, enough soccer games and class debates, enough parties where Sara has come to Ava’s rescue when a guy is being too creepy (and vice versa), enough walks home together as a part of a larger group of friends going in the same direction, enough partnered school projects and small moments they’ve witnessed in between the daily arguing that make it impossible for Ava to simply call Sara her nemesis after all this time. Now, they’re hovering somewhere in the space between enemies and friends and over the past year especially they've become much closer. Most of their grade are Star City born and raised and there’s a tight knit sense of community and family that exists between them all. Ava is well aware that she and Sara exist in completely different circles of life at school, that the tradition of their two groups of friends always bickering and playing pranks is longstanding but it’s familiar and comfortable and there’s an underlying foundation of respect and trust.

 

And in this moment, sitting in the warmth of Sara’s bedroom in Laurel’s oversized sweatshirt, feeling lonely and scared and unsure of anything at all her life, Ava is terrified of losing the familiarity of her relationship with Sara, of the fragile bond they’ve built. As much as she hates to admit it, Sara has become important to her, so instead of speaking Ava just sits there, frozen, fiddling with a lose thread on the cuffs of the sweatshirt as she fights back her tears.

 

At some point while Ava wasn't paying attention, Sara had moved away from the headboard and come to sit opposite her, and now she reaches out to grasp one of Ava's hands in her own, giving it a soft squeeze. She waits until Ava's eyes meet hers before murmuring 'We don't have to talk about it if you're not ready.'

 

Ava shakes her head. 'No, I -' Her words cut off as her breathing hitches, and she grips Sara's hand even harder. 'I do. Want to talk about it. I just - Give me a moment.'

 

Sara nods, understanding once again filling her expression, and sits patiently waiting for Ava to get her thoughts in order. 

 

'I - My mom doesn't approve. Of this. Of me.' Sara's piercing blue eyes are fixed on her face as she spoke, a small encouraging smile on her face, and suddenly it’s all too much so Ava looks away, her eyes coming to land on a framed photo of Sara with her mother. They look so happy, in sync in a way that Ava and her mother had never been. ‘It’s expected which is why I don’t know why it’s coming as such a shock. It’s not like she's ever approved of me, to be honest. I was always too sporty, and I didn't own enough dresses or makeup for her liking. She wanted me to be like Layla and Ali, and at the time, I didn’t care enough to try and appease her. But now...'

 

She cuts off again, feeling fresh tears build against her eyelashes. 'She hates that I'm...like this.'

 

Sara raises an eyebrow, a playful smile on her face. 'That you're a lesbian?' Ava's eyes widen and Sara rolls her eyes affectionately. 'It's not a bad word Aves.'

 

'It is to her,' Ava whispers in response, unable to meet Sara's eyes.

 

(She ignores the way the word sounds softer and sweeter coming from Sara’s lips, how for the first time, she likes the sound of it as a way to describe herself.)

 

In all honesty, she should've expected this reaction from her mother, but for some reason she'd fooled herself into thinking her mom wouldn't mind, that her opinions would change if her own daughter came out. She'd thought that just maybe, her mom's love for her would be stronger than her prejudice. But it appears not.

 

'I just... I don't know what to do. I’m _used_ to her disappointment but they were always over things I could control. I _chose_ to play sports, I _chose_ to literally live in Spencer’s old hand-me-downs, I _chose_ to not be what she wanted.’ Ava shrugs helplessly, sniffing. ‘But this? I can’t control this, I can’t take this back or just choose _not_ to be …’ The word gets stuck in the back of her throat. ‘… _like this._ It was fine for her to be disappointed in who I chose to be but now, she’s -‘

 

‘She’s disappointed who you actually are,’ finishes Sara softly and there’s a sadness in her tone that tugs at Ava’s heart.

 

‘Yeah. And _god_ , it hurts and I just don’t what I’m supposed to do because … because I can't - I don't -' 

 

Her thoughts run out of control and before she knows it, she’s buried in Sara's arms once again, tears soaking into her shoulder. She should feel embarrassed by the was she's clinging onto Sara like a lifeline, but she can't quite bring herself to care. For someone who spends so much time getting on her nerves with her abrasive personality, Sara is so...kind. Soft.

 

And it shouldn't feel so weird, because she's seen glimpses of this other version of Sara before, but the way the other girl is hugging her with one hand tracing gentle patterns across her back still somehow takes her by surprise. She stays there for a moment, letting herself be calmed by Sara's presence, by the familiar smell of coconut honey shampoo (seriously, she has to get herself a bottle of this stuff) before pulling away, trying desperately to ignore the way her stomach flutters as Sara brushes her thumb across her cheek, wiping away the remains of her tears.

 

'Things won't just fix themselves overnight, Aves.'

 

Ava gives her a halfhearted smile and nods hesitantly. 'I know that. I do. I just wish...' She trailed off again, unsure about finishing her sentence, but Sara seems to read her mind.

 

'You just wish it would go away. You wish your mom could just accept you for who you are.' 

 

Ava's eyes flicker up to meet Sara's and she exhales, tension creeping out of her shoulders as she mutters an agreement. Sara squeezes her hand in response, adding quietly 'And worst of all, there's a tiny part of you that wishes you'd never said anything, because at least that way you'd know where you stood with her.'

 

There’s something so familiar, so blatantly _accurate_ about it that Ava’s eyes widen a little in surprise, causing Sara to let out a quiet chuckle, a lopsided grin finding its way onto her face.

 

'My mom wasn't always that supportive either. Sure, she's great now, and she always makes sure to ask if I've got a boyfriend _or_  a girlfriend, but it didn't start out that way. And I don't... I mean, I know your dad’s super cool and I always thought your brother seemed pretty nice but I don’t know much about your mom and sisters and obviously don't know what kind of situation you have at home, not really, and I can't say that your experience will be anything like mine. But it did take a while for things to go back to normal - well, normal for the Lance family that is, which is still a bit insane if you ask me.'

 

Ava snorts with quiet, teary laughter, and Sara's smile softens into something more sincere. 'Once my mom had processed everything and Dad and Laurel repeatedly told her it wasn't just a phase, she started to come round. And now we've reached the point where she'll send me a lame text with about 50 rainbow emojis every year on pride ... but it didn't just happen immediately.'

 

Ava somehow finds herself returning Sara's smile, hoping that the gratitude she could never get across in words was clear in her expression. She pauses for a second before asking ‘How did Laurel react? To you being bi.’ 

 

‘Laurel?’ echoes Sara, raising a surprised eyebrow. ‘Uh … pretty good, actually. I came out to her first. I was 12, she was almost 14 and I spent an entire month psyching myself up to say anything about it. Eventually, after dinner one night I told her I needed to talk to her about something and I just sat on her bed for literally 45 minutes saying nothing because I couldn’t get the words out.’

 

‘Oh, glad the whole not being able to say it isn’t just me being stupidthen,’ says Ava a little self deprecatingly and Sara squeezes her hand.

 

‘No, it’s not,’ she says reassuringly. ‘It’s hard. It’s like the words just dry up in your mouth and your lungs kind of stop working for a minute and it’s pure terror every time you go to say it.’

 

Ava nods. ‘So, how did you end up telling her?’

 

’She came and sat next to me and played our favourite childhood movie on her laptop for us to watch while we waited.’ Sara has a fond, affectionate smile on her face. ‘Eventually, I worked up the courage to say ‘I think I have a crush on a girl’. She just looked over at me and asked who it was.’

 

‘Who was it?’

 

‘Emily Roddingham.’

 

‘Seriously?’ says Ava, wrinkling her nose. ‘The one who literally chews gum every second of the day and acts like she has a perpetual stick up her ass? You could do better, even at 12.’

 

Sara laughs loudly, a full, twinkling, sunshine sound that fills Ava’s chest with warmth.

 

‘Laurel said the same thing,’ Sara chuckles. ‘But after that, she helped me figure out how to tell Dad, then Mom, and then slowly get used to it being my new normal.’ Her eyes shift into a more curious, thoughtful expression and she returns her full attention to Ava. ‘Why’d you ask?’ The tone in her voice tells Ava that she’s probably already guessed.

 

‘My sister wasn’t too happy either,’ says Ava in a small voice. Sara’s hand is tightly gripping hers again and she’s thankful for the action because it distracts her from crying again.

 

‘Which one?’

 

‘Layla. Older.’

 

‘The bitch with the shitty bleach job?’

 

Ava chokes on her breath, spluttering with laughter. ‘Oh my _god_ , that’s the best thing I’ve ever heard!’

 

‘Okay, but seriously, her skin is not the right shade to suit platinum blonde!’ insists Sara defensively, but her eyes are twinkling at the wide grin on Ava’s face. She sobers a little. ‘How bad is she taking it?’

 

‘I think she’s frustrated because it’s disrupted this idea that we had a perfect, idyllic American family,’ admits Ava. ‘Which we never really had to begin with but Layla is obsessed with being _normal_ and _perfect_ so yeah, even though Mom and Dad pretty much seem like all kinds of wrong for each other and I never fit the image my mom wanted of me, at least the “intelligent parents, brother in the army, tomboy sister and all round perfect other sister who all live in a stupidly nice house in a good part of town” was normal enough.’

 

’ _Scarily_ normal,’ adds Sara which makes Ava roll her eyes.

 

‘And then I had to go and come out and according to her, it’s ruined everything because everyone’s fighting about it and everyone’s tense and trying to say the right thing and she’s blaming me.’ Ava taps her phone with her free hand, turning it to show Sara the text Layla sent her earlier.

 

‘What the fuck?’ exclaims Sara and there’s more anger in it than Ava was expecting. ‘Who the _fuck_ says that kind of thing?’

 

‘Layla,’ says Ava with a shrug. ‘It’s fine, I don’t really care what she thinks. It’s not like mom. I dunno, I just thought maybe, because she’s kind of our age and is our generation that it wouldn’t be something she bat an eyelid over. Guess not.’ 

 

Sara eyes are still burning with anger but her expression is gentle as she says ‘I’m sorry Ava.’

 

Neither of them say anything for a while, just sitting there facing each other as the world outside Sara’s window settles into the peaceful darkness of October nighttime, the occasional burst of laughter erupting from Quentin and his friends downstairs. After a few minutes, Sara untangles her hand from Ava's and shuffles over to the other side of the bed, flopping onto her back beside Ava and staring up at the ceiling. Her voice is quiet but determined when says ’It’ll get better. It _does_ get better Ava.'

 

Her words are firm, as if she’s making a promise, taking on the responsibility that she _herself_ will make it better for Ava and Ava feels a soft warmth bloom in her chest. She smiles teasingly. 'So are we gonna talk about how you've called me 'Aves' like three times since I’ve been here or…?’ 

 

She raises an eyebrow and Sara flushes, reaching out to slap Ava’s thigh. ‘I was being _nice_ ,’ she says indignantly. ‘Not that you'd know what that is.' The familiarity of the insult is so comforting that Ava laughs, properly this time with no hint of tears or sadness, and Sara beams at the sound. They sit in comfortable silence for a little longer before Ava catches sight of Sara’s biology text book open on her desk.

 

‘Oh crap, did I interrupt you studying?’

 

‘It’s fine,’ says Sara quickly. ‘Besides, we’re not all married to school like you.’

 

‘Shut up,’ says Ava, shoving Sara lightly. ‘ _Fuck_ \- we have a bio test tomorrow don’t we?’

 

Sara nods. ‘You’re about to freak out that you’re wasting time here and not prepping for it, aren’t you?’

 

Ava glares. ‘ _No._ ’ When Sara arches a disbelieving eyebrow though, she lets out a small huff of frustration and murmurs ‘Yeah, maybe.’

 

Sara smirks triumphantly before hopping off the bed and snatching up her biology textbook, laptop, pencil case and two notebooks from her desk and returning to the bed, dumping all the study equipment between them.

 

‘Well here’s a compromise,’ Sara declares, lying down on her stomach and flipping open her computer, propping it up onto a pillow in front of them. ‘I know you definitely don’t want to go home yet but can tell you’re pretty much going to have an anxiety attack if we just stay here talking when you could be studying. I suck at bio and I’ve been stressing about this test all week so how’s this - you help me out for this test and you can hide out here until you feel up to facing your family?’

 

Ava feels the tension dissipate from her chest. ‘Yeah. Yeah that sounds good.’ She mirrors Sara, lying down on her stomach and pulling the textbook in front of her. ‘Start with protein synthesis?’

 

They’ve worked together for school before so Ava’s not surprised at how easily they manage to fall into a rhythm of work. Sara hasn’t given herself enough credit for how much she _does_ understand so it takes no time at all for them to go over the parts she’s hazy on before they just start quizzing each other on the general concepts of the module. Ava does however, find herself surprised by Sara’s notes - for all the ways that Sara is brash, messy, hurried, all spontaneous decisions and crazy adventures, her notes are pristine, colour coded, perfectly ruled diagrams and cute little drawings to help explain stuff. Ava ends up flicking through the notebook curiously when Sara looks away from her laptop, grinning a little when she sees Ava enthralled in the notebook.

 

‘Impressed by my note taking, huh Sharpe?’

 

‘I would’ve thought you were a blue-pen-all-in-one-notebook type of girl,’ confesses Ava, ducking her head down as Sara gasps over-exaggeratedly, clutching her chest.

 

‘I’m wounded, how could you ever think so simply of me?’ she bemoans dramatically.

 

‘Oh my god,’ mutters Ava, rolling her eyes. ‘I’m never complimenting your notes again.’

 

Sara smirks, returning her attention to her computer. They both slip back into a concentrated mode of studying. It’s easy being around Sara, Ava realises. There’s enough history between them that she never feels the need to explain herself, they’re similar enough that they laugh at the same jokes but different enough that there’s an endless sea of things for them to talk about. There’s nothing awkward about their silences, no aching need to fill them, and despite this being the first time Ava’s been in Sara’s room, she feels so comfortable in it that it’s as though she’s been here a million times before.

 

Neither of them realise how much time has passed until Laurel knocks on the door, poking her head in and looking a little surprised to see Ava there.

 

‘Oh, I didn’t realise you had anyone over,’ the older Lance sister says. ‘Sorry.’

 

‘It’s okay,’ says Sara with an easy smile. ‘Ava just came over to study for our bio test tomorrow. What’s up?’

 

‘Dad’s ordering pizza for the poker crew and wants to know if we want anything.’

 

‘I’ll get a pepperoni and mushroom,’ says Sara. She looks over at Ava. ‘You want anything?’

 

Ava glances down at her phone, an ‘Oh shit’ slipping past her lips when she sees that it’s almost 9:45pm. She has 3 missed calls from her dad, 1 from her mom, 1 from Spencer, another aggressive text from Layla and a kinder text from Ali.

 

‘You’re popular,’ teases Sara, seeing the burst of notifications.

 

‘They’re all from my family,’ says Ava grimly and Sara gives her a sympathetic grimace.

 

‘Ava, pizza?’ prompts Laurel, a curious expression on her face as she watches the two of them.

 

‘I should probably go,’ admits Ava. ‘It’s getting late and my family’s worried. Some of them, at least.’

 

‘Do you want a ride?’ asks Laurel, concerned. ‘It’s pretty dark outside.’

 

Ava shakes her head. ‘It’s not too far, but thanks.’ She offers Laurel a grateful smile, touched by her worry. She quickly fires a brief text to Ali, apologising for not answering, explaining that she was studying and promising to be back soon. As she moves to get up, Sara also jumps off the bed, grabbing a pair of trainers from her shoe rack and pulling off her woolly socks so she could put the shoes on.

 

‘What are you doing?’ Ava asks, confused.

 

‘Coming with you,’ says Sara promptly. ‘Like Laurel said, it’s dark outside.’

 

‘You don’t have to -‘ Ava tries to insist but Laurel interrupts her.

 

‘Either Sara goes with you or I drive you home. It’s way too late for you to be walking back by yourself.’

 

‘What about Sara walking back here by herself?’ Ava argues challengingly.

 

Laurel snorts with amusement. ’Sara’s a black belt in like, three different martial arts. She’ll be fine.’

 

‘I’m glad you care so much about my wellbeing,’ retorts Sara, unplugging her phone from its charger and slipping it into her hoodie pocket.

 

Ava’s gaze flits between the two of them, both staring at her with ‘So are you gonna try and argue?’ expressions on their faces and she’s startled at the sudden likeness she sees. She relents with a quiet laugh of defeat. ‘Okay, yeah fine. Sara can walk with me.’ 

 

Laurel gives a small _whoop_ of victory, exchanging a hi-five with Sara. As they all walk out of Sara’s room together and down the stairs, Laurel turns and does a once over of Ava, eyebrows furrowing when sees the sweatshirt. ‘Is that mine?’

 

Ava goes beet red. ‘Uh … yeah. Hang on, let me give it back.’ She moves to take it off but Sara’s hand catches her wrist.

 

‘Um _nope_ ,’ she says firmly. ‘Laurel I’ve had this sweatshirt for like, two years and you haven’t even noticed it was gone. It’s mine now - Ava, keep it on, it’ll be freezing outside.’

 

Ava looks over to Laurel, a little unsure but Laurel just gives her a reassuring smile and heads into the living room where there’s still laughter ringing through the house, soft 90’s R&B music filtering through speakers.

 

‘You going out Sara?’ calls Quentin.

 

Sara takes Ava’s hand to pull her into the living room doorway, grinning when all the detectives crow at the sight of her and invite her in to join the poker game.

 

‘Yeah, no way,’ says Quentin, shaking his head. ‘Not after she scammed Diaz out of almost $200.’

 

’Scammed?’ gasps Sara dramatically, folding her arms defensively. ‘I won that cash fair and square, thanks Dad. And sorry Lou, can’t stay, got a test to study for.’

 

‘You going to Ava’s to study?’ asks Quentin, and Ava’s a little stunned that Sara’s dad knows who she is. He’s never been home when she’s come over to work on school stuff before. Has Sara _talked_ about her?

 

’Nah, I’m just walking her home,’ says Sara. ‘I’ll be back soon.’

 

‘Text me when you get to her place,’ says Quentin, automatically in cop mode and Sara acquiesces, tugging Ava towards the door. Ava waves a goodbye to Laurel and the other detectives before following Sara onto the porch and pulling the door shut behind them. As they start walking down the street, Sara leans over to nudge Ava’s shoulder with her own. ‘You doing okay?’

 

Ava sighs, looking down at the street. Honestly? Knowing she’s going back to the insanity she’d managed to escape for a couple of hours is putting her back on edge. There are so many emotions swimming round her head that she can’t pin them down, but she doesn’t want to lie to Sara. Not when she'd been so nice and understanding about everything, even though Ava had just turned up on her doorstep and probably ruined any and all other evening plans she may have had. 'I'm better than I was earlier.'

 

Sara tilts her head slightly in acknowledgement, letting out a quiet 'good' as they round a corner. They don’t talk much, the same way the hadn’t while they were studying, but Sara seems to get that Ava needs to process returning to the argument she left behind and doesn’t appear to have any problems walking in silence. Ava knows that the situation at home wouldn't have improved since she left, and if anything running away would only have worsened her mom's anger. But talking things through with Sara had helped. She doesn’t exactly know why she had gone to her instead of phoning one of her friends, but Sara had somehow made her feel less alone whilst simultaneously getting her to relax, _and_ they’d managed to get work done. Most of the time, Ava isn’t even able to do all three of those things on a regular night.

 

As they start walking through the more expensive part of the neighbourhood, Ava can’t help but find herself occasionally glancing over at Sara, a small spark of curiosity alighting within her. Tonight, Sara had shown a completely different side of herself that Ava knew was there but had never been privy to. It makes Ava realise just how much she _doesn’t_ know about Sara, despite having been in each others lives for the better part of almost four years, as well as just how much Ava _wants_ to know about this girl who for all the bickering, all their arguments and insults and ridiculous antagonisms, has now seen and comforted her through her lowest (and that’s a whole other train of thought and is definitely not one she needs to be having right now).

 

They reach Ava’s front lawn far quicker than Ava would have liked. Neither of them say anything, and Ava finds herself staring at the house with dread, sharp, shallow breaths getting caught in her throat.

 

‘Hey,’ says Sara, reaching out and taking Ava’s hand. ‘Breathe. It’s okay.’

 

Ava nods mutely, clutching Sara’s hand tightly.

 

‘I could come in with you?’ Sara offers.

 

‘No,’ says Ava immediately, regretting it instantly when Sara’s eyes flash with slight hurt. ‘Not because I don’t want you to. It’s not that, it ’s just -‘ She shakes her head. ‘If you do, my mom will assume you’re my girlfriend or something and she can’t even deal with the _concept_ of me being a lesbian, if I brought home a girl, that’s a whole other can of worms that would probably put her in hospital with a heart arrhythmia or something.’ She looks over at Sara, hoping she understands the rejection and is surprised to see Sara grinning widely at her. ‘What?’

 

‘You said it,’ says Sara and her voice is so warm and proud that Ava’s heart jolts. ‘You said the word.’

 

Ava blinks and she lets out a soft, surprised laugh. It’s as though a lump in her throat that she didn’t even realise was there has vanished, a weight on her chest lifted and she feels lighter than she has in _ages._ ’Oh,’ she says in a barely a whisper. ‘I did.’

 

Sara gives her hand a tight squeeze, still beaming as she bumps their shoulders together again. ‘See? It’s already a bit better. And … remember, it won’t last forever. She’s your mom - she does love you, no matter how strained your relationship is.’ She shrugs, grimacing jokingly. ‘Layla on the other hand, she’s just a bitch. _She_ might hate you forever, but if she does, I’d just put that down to her general personality. And maybe yours too.’

 

Ava breaks their joint hands to lightly slap Sara’s arm. ‘Jerk.’ But they’re both laughing and Ava realises that the tightness in her shoulders has vanished. She finally finds the courage to step forwards, walking slowly to her house. ’See you in class tomorrow?’

 

She’s a little scared as she says it because she knows, somewhere deep down (or maybe even not so deep down) that after tonight, nothing about their relationship will ever be the same. And as much as that thought has slight fear bubbling at the pit of her stomach, there’s something else there too- relief, excitement, anticipation - that has Ava glancing hopefully at Sara over her shoulder.

 

Sara nods, giving her a classic Lance salute but her eyes are affectionate, as though she’s aware of the same things as Ava. She rocks on the balls of her feet, giving Ava a soft, encouraging smile. ‘Yeah. See you tomorrow Aves.’

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> SORRY THERE'S NO KISS OR ANYTHING IT'S BECAUSE THEY DON'T GET TOGETHER IN THE CONTEXT OF THIS AU UNTIL THEIR SENIOR YEAR SO IF COMMENT TO MOTIVATE US TO START WRITING THE BIGGER FIC AND HOPEFULLY IT WILL BE UP ASAP BC WE ARE RLLY STUPIDLY INVESTED 
> 
> come cry to us about avalance on tumblr (rubyhvle) & (legolasunderstoodthatreference)


End file.
